“My fingers are the strings through which the universe zings”

“Well, now I’m really zinging. My blood is bubbling and I’m churning through tasks like there was no tomorrow. Maybe there is no tomorrow. Maybe all we have is today to do the things we want to do – maybe my fingers are the strings through which the universe zings. The others their covers are strands of wet spaghetti. Come ON get a move on why are you so slow oh no go slow you are strands of wet spaghetti. That explains a lot. Whereas I whereas I am made of something – something or nothing – nothing made at all out of the sky the high why sky is why am I.”
I love this blog: http://scienceofinsanity.blogspot.com/